


i still feel alive

by cecelestial



Series: Detroit: Become Human - Prompts [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Connor, markus hates thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23681686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecelestial/pseuds/cecelestial
Summary: Markus preferred the quiet nights. The ones where he could say what he wanted without the crashing lull of thunder surrounding his words, where his quietude isn't disturbed by the feeling of dirt coating his fingertips or something pulling at his legs. Especially the ones where the ground doesn't feel endless.( Markus doesn't like thunderstorms. Connor is a good boyfriend. )
Relationships: Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human)
Series: Detroit: Become Human - Prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719091
Comments: 12
Kudos: 76





	i still feel alive

**Author's Note:**

> _Here's my DBH RK1K prompt: Post whatever ending you choose, Connor notices Markus's scars on his legs and asks about the junkyard replacements. Markus gets to talk about his own PTSD for the first time (since a lot of fic just focuses on Connor's which also exists, but Connor would be attentive to Markus as well)_ \- via thelaughingmagician
> 
> Jen, you read my damn mind. Anyway, this was pretty heavy to write, so please heed the tags. There isn't anything graphic, it's just very emotional and I, like Connor, dodge my emotions like novocaine ( that's a song reference *finger guns* ). 
> 
> Speaking of songs, I'd like to personally thank Spotify for their "Broken Heart" playlist as it helped me get in the zone for this. Although, they really should have put I Love You, But I Need Another Year by Liza Anne on there. I hate Spotify Free, though, 'cause I'd be in the zone and then get an advert for Foxy Bingo. Without further ado, enjoy!
> 
> Send in a prompt to my [tumblr](https://cecelestials.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> Edit: I forgot to say the title comes from [still feel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KOOhPfMbuIQ) \- half alive

Michigan was located in the northern part of the United States, therefore the autumn and winter weather often disagreed with the two androids currently resting in one of Detroit's larger studio apartments, rain battering relentlessly against the long windows. A clap of thunder resounded throughout the city followed by a blinding flash of light. Markus' synthetic skin nearly retracted of its own accord, his thirium pump missing a beat. Markus rerouted his processing power back to where it should be, although futile. The storm disquieted Markus’ processors, making them stutter slightly every time a low rumble of thunder or a quick flash of light appeared. He doesn’t know why he keeps staring out the window. Perhaps, he hopes exposure will lessen the unsettling feeling the weather settles in his wires.

Markus preferred the quiet nights. The ones where he could say what he wanted without the crashing lull of thunder surrounding his words, where his quietude isn't disturbed by the feeling of dirt coating his fingertips or something pulling at his legs. Especially the ones where the ground doesn't feel endless. Markus knows if he were to plant his feet on the solid, wooden ground beneath him, he wouldn't slip on wet mud, squashed underneath his feet. He knows he has legs, despite wiggling them a little to make sure, though neither of it serve to soothe his quickening heart. Markus stared up at the ceiling, the fan attached to it whirring softly above. It was there when he and Connor moved in and neither thought to remove it despite not needing the cool down. It was greatly appreciated by Hank and Carl when they came to visit in warmer months, so they left it there. Staring, Markus felt his vision move in and out of focus. He reached a hand up to the replaced optical unit. No, he was fine. Everything was fine.

Markus lowered his body further into the soft mattress, trying to convince his racing processors he was safe. He closed his eyes, pushing his head against the soft pillows. _Soft_. Not wet, rough, dirty ground. Connor was beside him, entirely intact and fully functioning, as fully functioning as the RK800 could be considering the late nights Connor often pushed. Markus couldn't think about it right now. No matter how much he wanted to. Another, louder clap of thunder resounded throughout his audio processors until all Markus could hear was ringing, a light static beginning to buzz in the back of his head. _His_ audio processors. The audio processor on the right side of his head wasn't his, just like his legs and his eye and his thirium regulator weren't his. His entire system felt hot and burning.

One glance over to the android by his side registers Connor in stasis. Markus deflated a little at the sight, selfish as it was. Connor rarely entered stasis for reasons Connor remained tight-lipped about, but nevertheless, it was a rare occurrence. Besides, Connor always looked so beautiful and peaceful when he rested. Markus couldn’t disturb such a reverential sight. Instead, Markus pulled the sheets off himself, pulling his rigid and stiff body out of the bed, careful not to disturb the other android. What possesses him to sit at the kitchen table and watch the storm is unknown. Markus doesn't know how long he's been sitting there until he hears the buzzing again, louder this time. He feels hands, clawing at him desperately as he makes his way through a tight space, the tiny spark of hope some of them held until it flickered out before or after they lost part of themselves, knowing they would never escape. Markus wondered what happened to them now. He never checked. He should have checked. Some _leader_ he was.

"Markus?" Connor's unmistakable voice called.

Markus nearly jumped. Connor was so light-footed, Markus thought Connor could have killed him if he really wanted to, and Markus would never know. Not until it's too late.

"Did I wake you?" Markus asked without turning around. Connor doesn't answer.

"Are you alright?"

As ever, Connor is more concerned over Markus than with his own well-being. Connor could get shot - which was more likely than Markus was comfortable with - and he'd still be asking Markus how he was doing. Markus doesn't know if he deserves it. Not after the junkyard, not after taking everything he could from his dead and dying people out of a desperation to survive, unable to do more. It weighs heavy on him now as the rain keeps crashing down, the thunder and lightning rumbling and flashing overhead, taking Markus back to the very night. He doesn't blame himself, not for needing to survive. The fault of that lay solely upon the humans who threw him down there. It's the fact he never went back, too much of a coward to bear the very sight of it again, leaving the rest of his people who lost all their hope in there. They would never know freedom, about the deviant leader, cursed to live out the rest of their lives in such an unsightly manner.

He doesn't want to burden anyone with his issues, least of all Connor, who more than had his fair share.

Markus inhales then to cool his processors, leaving Connor standing in the dark, waiting for an answer. The breath he releases is shaky, but he thinks it's enough for now. The real dread lies in trying to convince himself to fall into stasis. Markus pushes himself to his feet, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor drowned by another clap of thunder. Another inhale, another shaky breath released before he turned to the other android with a forced smile and a promise on his lips he was fine which died when he saw Connor's dark gaze had moved downwards. Markus followed Connor's gaze down to the scars on his legs. With a sigh, Markus resolved to start wearing pyjamas, though it would be pointless now, so he threw the thought away.

No matter how much Markus wanted to cover them, no matter how much he _tried_ to get his chassis to cover them, they would always be there. Taunting Markus with their very existence, reminding him of just how and why he could stand here, in a large studio apartment in Detroit, facing the love of his life, right now. Instead of being abandoned in an old, muddy junkyard full of broken androids and broken pieces he never returned to out of fear, guilt, and shame.

Markus sighed, closing his eyes, defeated. He hadn't meant to hide the scars from Connor, they just didn't come up. Markus knew it was a sorry and weak excuse when Connor moved closer, concern etched deep into his brown eyes. Markus doesn't move, afraid of what the reaction would be. Markus never told him about the junkyard, but he wouldn't be surprised if Connor knew already with his exceedingly brilliant detective skills. Connor stops suddenly. Not as far away as he was, but far enough to give Markus the space he needs, close enough to touch if he wanted it but also far enough to leave if he wanted that, too. Markus is grateful to him for that.

"What happened?" Connor inquired, softly. "Were you injured?"

"No," Markus answers quickly. Too quickly. Connor quirked a brow in response, though he stayed where he was. "No, these were here before..."

"Before?" Connor repeated. Markus never realised he trailed off, hugging his arms into himself. He wished he could have gone in stasis. Weirdly, he wished he wasn't here right now, accidentally laying himself bare and vulnerable. It wasn't a very leader-like quality, to crumble underneath the weight of his own mind, brought to his knees by his own thoughts. Regardless of whether he wanted to think them or not, they were his thoughts. Several guns pointed in his face, the imminent threat of death looming over him, and its his own mind crushing him through the weighted feelings of his own inadequacy. "Markus?"

Connor's voice snapped him back to reality. When his gaze wandered to the outside, Markus doesn't remember, but Connor's hand is on his shoulder now. It's grounding in a way Markus didn't expect. Through the dim lighting of the street lights and the flash of lightning, Markus can see the concern deepen in Connor's expression. Markus feels shameful at the sight. Connor had his own problems to deal with, even if he wouldn't tell Markus about them just yet, and here Markus was, forcing Connor to deal with his. Connor's hand slips down his arm to Markus' hand, giving it a gentle squeeze in comfort. Markus sighed again. The very weight of Connor standing in front of him forced him to face reality, despite the raging storm. A branch smacked against the window. Markus drew his attention to it.

"It's okay," Connor reassured. Markus returned his attention to him. "Just a branch."

It's easy for Markus to forget Connor's capabilities in this state, easy for him to forget he's likely analysing Markus' stress levels right now. He was built for negotiation and possessed psychological prowess. That's why he didn't touch him before, because he knew not to. When he did, it was to bring Markus back to reality. It's odd to think about how Connor used his programming for this, considering this was supposed to be used for finding out more about deviants and manipulating them into giving up any information they could. The soft and gentle way Connor used it now felt like a revolution in itself. Besides, Markus felt something in Connor beyond his programming. Something beyond care, or worry, but a deep understanding no one else could fathom. Markus wished he knew how. He wouldn't like to learn the hard way like Connor is now.

"You don't have to tell me what's wrong," Connor continued, faltering a little, even as he moved closer. This was still new to him. New to the both of them, but the other had less experience, "but... I'm here, if you want me to be."

Somehow, Markus believed him. Connor never said anything without meaning behind it. Perhaps, Connor's intensity was a lot for people to handle, but Markus matched him there, too. Markus closed his eyes, leaning slightly to rest his head against the top of Connor's shoulder. The physical contact served to keep him in the here and now, more than Markus thought possible. Connor's hand moved from Markus' own to the back of his neck, rubbing soft and soothing circles against Markus' skin. How long they stood there, Markus didn't know, but he felt safer than he ever possibly thought he could feel. Everything happening outside stayed outside instead of climbing its way through Markus' processors and slithering its way into his wires, making his thirium run cold and fast. Eventually, he lifted his head to level his gaze with Connor's. Connor dropped his hand, though not immediately, expectant.

Markus opened his mouth to say something, yet no words came out. He _wanted_ to tell Connor. If he said he was there for him, then he would be, yet no words formed. Maybe it would be easier if he showed him instead, but Markus didn't want to relive the memory. He was torn between forcing the words out or interfacing with Connor to pass the memory on, but then he would also have Markus' feelings to process. Connor could still barely process his own without external help. A thumb swiped away something wet from his face. When did he start crying?

Connor didn't say anything, though. He only waited. Waited for Markus to say something, or not say anything. Connor peeled back the skin on his hand, revealing the stark white chassis underneath, the blue glowing softly in the dark light. "If you want to," Connor began, "would it be easier if you showed me?"

Could he cross _mind reader_ off the list of Connor's capabilities, too?

"Connor, I don't think -- " Markus starts, afraid for the emotional fallout Connor might feel.

"Don't treat me like I'm fragile," Connor interrupted. "Please." It wasn't a demand, or a request, but it didn't sound like a plea, either. Connor wanted to be an equal to Markus, not someone he felt the need to take care of. Markus nodded slightly, peeling back his own skin to reveal the soft blue glow of his own chassis. Linking their hands together, Markus' mismatched eyes met Connor's deep gaze.

He immediately felt much more guilty for accepting this easy way, pushing his guilt, fear, shame, and worries on to Connor through the memory. The fear he felt at the idea he might not make it out alive, the guilt of taking parts of his own dead and dying people to save himself, the shame of never returning. What was unexpected was Connor's LED staying a soft and steady yellow throughout the whole thing when he started pushing back. The reassurances he gave Markus about how this _can't_ be easy for him to relive, the admiration Connor felt at Markus' bravery, and the soft, permissive reassurance about how even leaders are allowed to break a little, too. It was surprising, but not as surprising as Markus feeling Connor's own guilt and shame. Not to overshadow Markus', but to show him he understood more than he thought he did, even if Connor was the man with the heaviest guilty conscience in Detroit.

"Connor..." Markus breathed.

"We're not talking about me," Connor interrupted again, before Markus could switch the focus, retracting his hand from Markus' to place both at the side of Markus' face.

They're the same height, with Markus barely an inch taller than Connor, yet Markus feels small underneath his hands and his eyes. "I should have gone back," he whispered, low and quiet into the space between them. The air didn't take the words, they were only for Connor.

"And done what?" Connor inquired, gliding his thumbs soothingly over Markus' cheeks. "There isn't anything more you could have done."

"I could have --" Markus began, but the words died on his lips when Connor shook his head slightly, removing his touch from Markus' face to hold his hands.

"Don't torture yourself, Markus."

It's such a simple sentence. To an outsider, it's merely a comforting sentence. Markus knows there's words unspoken there, though. Maybe before he wouldn't have, but the ache in his chest and Connor's downward gaze tells him there's more to it than Connor simply not wanting Markus to dwell on the past. It would make him hypocritical, and maybe Connor was already, but he knew he it. _I already do, and it doesn't solve anything_.

It would have to wait for another time, though. Connor wouldn't let him refocus somewhere else even if he tried. Especially not when another loud ringing clap of thunder and lightning resounded throughout the space. Connor gathered Markus into a tight embrace, pushing all of the other's weight into him as if to ground him before he could unravel himself again. Another thing Markus found easy to forget was how strong Connor was, his arms wrapped around Markus like a heavy blanket. Markus breathed another shaky breath, ghosting against Connor's neck where he buried his face into the crook of the other's shoulder.

"You're safe, Markus," Connor said, and it sounded like a promise. "I'm here. I've got you."

**Author's Note:**

> intense, loving, and hypocritical bastard rk800 connor: let's talk about you  
> intense, loving, but less hypocritical and more deflective rk200 markus: no you!!!
> 
> Remember when North told Connor he didn't have to tell her what's wrong but she was there if he wanted her in my second Connor & North fic? Yeah, I bet you didn't know I was gonna drag that in here. Anyway, I ~~love~~ hate these gay bitches. They're so soft :(
> 
> I hope it wasn't ooc, though. It's been a while.
> 
> Also, I have an RK1K Discord now called RGayOneGay. Message me for the invite if you're interested.


End file.
